“So do I. What’s keeping you awake?”
“You know how I get,” he said. “Sometimes I just cannot turn my brain off, thinking about a hundred different things at once.”
“The curse of the Big Brain,” I said and I heard Jack chuckle. “Talk to me.”
“What?”
“Talk to me, just like you used to when you were on tour and couldn’t fall asleep on the bus. You always said it helped to empty your Big Brain.” Jack was quiet for a few moments before he started talking.
“I am running out of patience with this situation,” he admitted. “What is taking the authorities so long?” This was not our first time discussing this topic and I understood his frustration.
“Like you said, we’re dealing with professionals. Plus, the weather didn’t help either. The storm probably covered up any evidence.”
“I am tired of talking about this,” Jack said, switching the conversation he just started off after it began, and sighed.
“So then let’s promise not to bring it up again,” I suggested.
“Okay,” Jack replied. I adjusted my position. My body hated me for doing so and this did not go unnoticed by Jack. “I will be right back,” he said and I felt him get out of bed. I heard water running in the bathroom. When he came back, he wiped my face with a cool washcloth. It felt good.
“Thank you,” I said. Jack continued wiping my face for a few moments and then slipped back under the covers. I heard him start to hum. I recognized the tune. It was ‘Untitled’ from the new album. It was on the acoustic side of the double album and my favorite. It was such a raw and emotional song. It was a love song but the lyrics were most definitely not about Crystal. It was one of the few Ivy Brothers songs written just by Jack.
“That’s still my favorite from the new album,” I said. “But I have a question and if you don’t want to answer, that’s okay.”
“What is it?”
“That song,” I said in a low voice. “It’s not about Crystal, is it?”
“No,” he said after a pause. “When it is safe, I will tell you all about it.”
“Will you also tell me about ‘The Crossroad’?”
“I need to apologize to you for that one,” he said, his voice already in an apologetic tone. “Again, when it is safe but do know I should never have written the song or lobbied for it to be put on the album.”
Jack said he was tired and he rolled over but his breathing never indicated he fell asleep and I knew his thoughts were on the performance in D.C. six months earlier. I felt bad for bringing it up but it was the moment after the weekend at the cabin that woke up the Terrible Voice. ‘The Crossroad’ was a new song – a ballad – he explained to the crowd at PBS’s A Capital Fourth. It had a melody I recognized from him plucking away on his guitar at the cabin just a couple weeks earlier. When he sang, the lyrics spoke of a fearful moment in love, a love that felt so correct. The last lines caused me to step away from the kids who were watching from the side of the stage and vomit into a secluded garbage can. I thought what I had was true/but then it was just me and you/A beautiful moment, a crossroad/I felt and followed/But now my thoughts swirl and are strong/And I think I was wrong…
From that moment, I believed Jack had not felt strong feelings towards me and was declaring to an unknowing world that what we had done – made love – had been an awful mistake. I fell hard and even though I now know my belief wasn’t the case, the anorexia came back and the depression that accompanied it increased also. Both had a strong hold on me and this kidnapping experience wasn’t helping.
We lay silent for a long time and Jack rolled back over to face me.
“I really am sorry,” he said in a voice so low I had to focus to hear him. “What happened that weekend…”
“No,” I said and reached out to put my gauzed hand over his mouth. It hurt me, both physically and emotionally, but I didn’t think now was a good time for such an important and emotional conversation. “Let’s wait to talk about it…”
“But I want to talk now.”
“And to be honest, I need to know but I’m afraid it’s too heavy of a subject for these circumstances,” I explained. I heard Jack take a deep breath and huff it out. He wasn’t happy. “Like you said about ‘Untitled,’ when it’s safe.”
“I just want you to know I am very, very sorry,” he said.
“And for now, that will suffice,” I replied. “Now, we sleep. Or at least try.”
“Yes, I am very tired and you sound tired too.”
I adjusted my position again but a painful spasm hit my back.
“Son of a bitch,” I breathed and squeezed my eyes shut. I had to breathe through pursed lips. My hip started to hurt worse followed by my ribs and wrist and hands and pelvis. It was as if the volume on my pains was turned up well past ten.
“What is wrong?” Jack asked with concern in his voice.
“My pain just got really, really b… b… b…” I couldn’t get the word bad out but Jack used his Big Brain to figure it out. There was no way I could not tell him. I was a pro at holding my pain in but this pain was severe. Perhaps the worst I’d ever felt and that was saying something considering my track record.
“Maybe it is the infection?” Jack offered but I wasn’t so sure. This pain was awful. It was deep and near constant and kept me up the rest of the night although I was able to convince Jack to sleep. Everything throbbed and as the sun rose, I was near tears but managed to hold them in when Jack woke up. I could barely stand when he helped me to the bathroom and it took me many minutes to convince myself to release my bladder as I was so afraid of that pain being worse also. It was and by the time I was done peeing, I was sweating and nauseous.
When I was back on the bed, I curled up into a ball. I felt as if something was not right but I didn’t want to voice that concern out of fear of what William might do. Jack paced from his nerves and when Vivienne and William entered with our breakfast trays Jack spoke, keeping his tone respectful. I wanted to tell him to be quiet but I couldn’t unclench my jaw. It hurt just as it had when Shane broke it five years earlier.
“Penny is in a lot of pain,” said Jack. “I am not demanding anything, not expecting anything, but I am respectfully asking for pain medication for her.” I dared to look at the trio. William and Vivienne exchanged a knowing look with Vivienne breaking out in a small yet evil smile. As she started filling my morning syringes, William tapped away on his phone.
“Sorry,” he said after his phone dinged a reply, “the Employer says no. She’ll just have to deal with the pain.” I could tell Jack wanted to say something but he held back. He had no choice considering I might be killed for something minor.
Vivienne approached and stabbed me in the hip. I extended my arm and Vivienne tied the tourniquet on. When I saw the syringe, I was surprised. There was twice as much of the red antibiotic in it.
“Why so much?” I managed to ask with much effort.
“Are you questioning my medical knowledge?” she said and I was quick to shake my head. When the medicine entered my blood stream, I felt as if the razor blades I was pissing earlier were coursing through my body. Everything became foggy. Somehow, through the fog, it dawned on me – the red antibiotic was not even an antibiotic. It was some other drug and it was that drug that was responsible for my increase in pain.
Vivienne and William left and all I wanted to do was die to get away from the pain. Jack kneeled down next to me and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Penelope?” he questioned. My entire body was one big throb of intense pain. “What is going on?”
“You can’t react,” I said, taking my words slow as even the sound of my voice caused my head to throb.
“React? React to what?”
“If you react, you know they’ll put a bullet in my brain,” I explained.
“Penny, you are scaring me. What is going on?” It took a lot of effort to focus on him and not the pain. I didn’t want to tell him my t
heory. Really, it wasn’t a theory; I was damn certain.
“That antibiotic, the red one,” I said. My head felt like it was in a vice and I had to shut my eyes. “It’s not an antibiotic.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not an antibiotic. Whatever it is, it’s causing all my normal pains to be amplified. Did you see the look on their faces? They’re up to something.” Jack sat back on his heels and rubbed his stubbly face, looking over at the door. When he looked back at me, there was fire in his eyes. “You can’t get mad, Jack,” I said and despite the immense pain crippling my body, I forced myself to sit up. “You can’t say anything. They’ll kill me and maybe even hurt you, too.”
“And that is why they are fucking doing this,” he growled. “They are torturing both of us with this. You are in such pain and because of the threat of killing you, I cannot do anything to stop them.” The pain surged upwards and I swayed close to the edge of the bed. Jack steadied me.
Each day, Vivienne increased the amount of the red drug and each day, the pain grew. They knew we knew what they were doing but no words were said. We were too afraid of the ramifications. My days were spent in a fog of hellacious pain. It was so bad I couldn’t eat which meant I was taking the real antibiotic pills on an empty stomach. It felt like they were burning a hole in my gut but the UTI was being stubborn and I had to take them.
The pain would rage for hours until it started to die down but then it would be time for Vivienne to come again and it would start all over. I lost track of time and couldn’t sleep. I barely sipped a little of the water Jack brought me. The real antibiotics, coupled with the pain, brought on severe nausea and Jack would need to carry me into the bathroom so I could vomit up what little was in my stomach.
The worst pain was in my back. It was excruciating. I felt as if my spine was being compressed and twisted, then expanded and slammed back together.
I was being tortured most certainly towards death.
. . .
“Just sip,” Jack said as he held the glass to my mouth. I was so thirsty but anytime I drank too much, it came up from the pain. But I was nearing the end of a cycle and the hope was that would help me keep the much needed liquid down. “Good girl.” I wilted back against the headboard and looked at Jack. He went into the bathroom and returned with the cool washcloth. He was gentle as he wiped my face.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice nothing more than a rough whisper.
“How is the pain?”
“A dull throb.” Jack returned the washcloth and came back to sit on the side of the bed. He ran his hand over his head. The worry in his face was so set; I wished I was able to put him at ease. He was also exhausted, refusing to sleep while I was in the throes of the torture drug. “Jack, you need to rest.”
“I am fine,” he insisted.
“You’re exhausted. The pain is not so bad right now. Please, for me, lay down.” I was not surprised that Jack looked torn.
“For you, I will. Just for a little while, at least until Ms. Mengele comes back with the drug.”
“Thank you.”
Jack went over to the other side of the bed and slipped under the blankets. He lay on his side towards me. Painfully, I turned onto my side. Jack looked even worse now. He had seen too many of the people he cared for suffer. I reached out with my bandaged hand and placed it on his. I knew I didn’t want him to hurt anymore. I knew what I needed to do.
. . .
For the first time in his life, Jack didn’t know what to do. It was torture watching Penny in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it. It was more than just the pain she was experiencing; it was now a life or death situation. Five days had passed since she figured out the drug was not an antibiotic and during those days, Penny had been unable to eat, drank just a little water, and rested only when she passed out from the pain.
He paced so much in worry he wore a matted path in the ugly shag carpeting.
Jack kneeled next to the bed. Penny was shaking from the pain and her gaze was far away. Sweat poured down her face. He didn’t know if her fever was breaking or if it was a side effect of the torture drug. He retrieved a cool washcloth and wiped her face. It took a while for her eyes to focus on Jack. She spent several moments trying to speak before she was able to get a single word out in a hoarse voice. There were moments in the last twenty-four hours where all she did was scream into the pillow. These were the toughest moments for Jack to bear.
“Water?”
“Konechno,”[12] he answered and filled their water glass. He sat her up but had to hold her; she was so weak she couldn’t support herself. Instead of speaking again, she signed.
“Thank you,” she said after he held the glass to her lips and she drank not near enough. Jack laid her back down, wiped her face again, and tried to put on a brave face. It was difficult.
Penny moaned and writhed on the bed. He wanted to comfort her through words but what could he say? He knew what he needed to say but the words were too clogged up inside of him from the worry. He had to figure out how to get the words out; she couldn’t die until he had voiced, for the first time, he loved her.
“Ivan,” she whispered and flopped her head in his direction. His stomach churned at how awful she looked and how much pain he saw in her bloodshot eyes.
“Yes, Penelope?” he said and touched her cheek.
“It’s time for this to stop.” Each word appeared to cause her more pain. They also caused him great pain.
“If we say anything, they will shoot you. They will kill you.”
“Jack, if she continues forcing that drug on me, I’ll die anyway. I can’t eat; I can barely drink water. I’m slowly dying. A bullet would end this so much faster.” Tears came to her eyes and she started crying. “I don’t want you to watch me die like this.”
“Just a couple more days, Penny, that is all you have left of this torture.” Jack couldn’t believe he said that. “You are so strong; you can make it. Do not give up. They said it would end when the real antibiotics were done.”
“I’m not giving up, Jack,” she said with more force than he’d heard out of her in several days. “You know me; I don’t give up easily but I can’t watch you watch me die this way. It’s a slow death just to hurt you. They’re doing it to torture you even more. I will not be party to that.”
“I can handle this,” he said in a firm voice.
“But I can’t. You’ve seen too many people you care about die. I won’t add to that total. When she comes, I will stop it. I’m not arguing about this anymore.”
He started crying and hid his face in the bedspread. This horrible situation just became the worst thing he dealt with and that was saying something considering he buried two children, watched his mother die a slow death, and had to make the decision to pull the plug on loved ones twice. He realized Penny was sacrificing herself for him. It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t even supposed to be in this situation at all. He couldn’t let her do this.
“Penny, you are not the only one who is strong. Do not worry about how this is affecting…”
“No arguing!” Penny cried out, then clutched her stomach. “Sick,” she moaned. Penny had nothing but a little water in her stomach but the retching was violent and continued for several minutes. When she was done, she collapsed against Jack, breathing heavily.
And then she pled in a weak voice. Her words took his breath away.
“Let me go, Jack,” she sobbed. “Please.”
“No,” he replied. Penny started crying harder and Jack carried her back to the bed. She curled up in a ball with her back to him. She was angry but he was angry too. “You are not going to go through with this. I will not allow it,” he said in an angry voice. “Nyet.”[13]
Jack paced and a terrible memory emerged from his anger. It was a memory he wished he could erase; one of the many from his childhood in the closed and no named city outside of Norilsk. He figured a small part of his refusal to let Penny go was because of
this memory. Jack knew if Penny demanded the torture stop, they would shoot her and he also knew he would be forced to witness it. It would not be the first time he would see a person get their brains blown out.
When he was just five or six, the KGB had forced the entire gray apartment building out in the cold one awful February night. Dr. Shakhnovich, one of Jack’s father’s fellow scientists, knelt in the street with D’yavol[14] pointing his gun at him. No one knew what D’yavol’s real name was but the nickname fit. He was the KGB agent that did the most killing and everyone knew to avoid him if possible.
Dr. Shakhnovich pleaded for his life as his own family watched with utter fear in their eyes. D’yavol said nothing, just pulled the trigger. It was messy and terrible and something Jack had never been able to forget. Dr. Shakhnovich’s wife took her own life just two days later by jumping off the roof of the gray apartment building and their three little children were sent away. It scared everyone because no one knew why he was murdered. Sometimes, the KGB didn’t need a reason.
And now Jack faced the same horrible experience again. To witness Penny be murdered… Jack’s stomach lurched and he barely made it to the toilet in time to expel the contents of his lunch he hadn’t wanted to eat but Penny made him.
On weak legs, he returned to the bedroom and sank to the floor in the corner. All Jack wanted to do was wake up from this horrible, horrible nightmare.
. . .
Jack prayed over and over in his mind as he paced and waited for Vivienne to come with the next dose. He and Penny had not spoken for two hours and he was worried about what would happen when Vivienne entered the bedroom. Penny, looking like hell, was sitting up but leaning back against the headboard. Her face was set in stubbornness.
The door to the bedroom opened and William and his entire team entered. They all had their guns drawn. Jack put himself in between Penny and the maniacs. His heart then took over.
“Penny is in too much pain. She does not know what she is saying. Do not stop giving her the drug. Please,” he begged.
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